


A Case Full of Monsters

by Nillegible



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs
Genre: Alternate Universe, case-fic, minor mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 21:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15590631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nillegible/pseuds/Nillegible
Summary: Newt Scamander stumbles over one too many clandestine Mafia deals, and promptly disappears. The British Ministry of Magic, desperate to find their missing Magizoologist, hire the Magical Armed Detective Agency to get him back.orIt occurred to me that Newt Scamander is an author and so would totally get a special ability if he existed in the BSDverse, and then this happened.





	A Case Full of Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. I have too many WIPs right now so I shouldn't be starting this one as well...but the idea wouldn't leave me alone. Hope you enjoy it!

The tall stranger, with his orange hair and wide eyes (and the terribly determined expression), is memorable enough that Chuuya would remember him even if he hadn’t turned up suspiciously close to three of his highest-priority shipments. The incoming material was so expensive and volatile that Chuuya had been assigned to oversee the transactions personally, something that had been beneath him since he first teamed up with Dazai. 

His particular skill set was better used for the Mafia’s other purposes, after all.

It would be simpler to just shoot the man, but he needed to find out how the man was tracking his shipments first. It’s aggravating, but Chuuya pulls out his wand. As though the other man knew he was suddenly in danger, he twists to apparate. It’s futile. While the entire port couldn’t have anti-apparition wards up consistently, they were activated during important transactions. The man’s eyes widen, and then he disappears. 

Chuuya swears and jumps down from the building he was watching from. 

It takes him four hours, even with Hirotsu’s Lizards grid-searching the area from a fixed perimeter, to find and surround the man. Chuuya weights the stranger’s wand and body down before he can cast, and Hirotsu has him bound and gagged in moments. The stranger has bright furious eyes, and Chuuya wants to scoff. “You made a mistake, coming into Port Mafia territory,” he tells the trussed-up man as he levitates him with his Tainted Sorrow into a waiting car. Slamming the trunk shut, he stows his wand in his sleeve and pulls out a phone. 

“Akutagawa. I’m sending you a captive. He knew the exact timing and location of three of our most stringently classified transactions. Find out who he’s working with, and what they know.” Chuuya hangs up before his subordinate can answer him.

Mori was not going to be pleased.

* * *

There’s an emergency meeting at the Armed Detective Agency. A message had been passed down from the Special Ability Department that the International Confederation of Wizards had lost a British wizard, and they needed him found at once. Fukugawa-san himself was leading the recovery efforts.

“Odd for them to care about any individual wizard, isn’t it?” asks Yosano. 

“He’s the younger brother of Theseus Scamander, the British hero,” replies Kunikida. “Last known location, Yokohama. He took an international portkey from Brazil scheduled for last month, rented out a decent room at Hoshigaki Hotel, stayed there for two weeks, then vanished in the night.”

“What does he do?”

“It says that he’s a Magizoologist.” Seeing Atsushi’s blank expression, he adds, “That means that he studies magical animals.”

“Like me?”

“Of course not! Atsushi-kun is a human being.”

“Ranpo-san?” Sighing as though he’s been put upon, Ranpo pulls on his glasses.

“The port mafia has him,” he says, bored.

“What?” says Atsushi.

“What?” Oh look, Dazai had been listening. Kunikida had thought he was trying to smother himself to death with a pillow and was therefore occupied. But Dazai definitely looks interested now. He seems to understand what Ranpo had seen, however, because he says, “Oh,” as though that settled it, and left the room. 

“What?” asks Atsushi again.

Ranpo sighs. “It’s obvious. There has been an uptick in appearances of illegally smuggled magical goods lately, particularly in non-tradeable class C goods from magical animal parts. You and Kyouka had to track down a shipment recently, remember? The number of instances of Port Mafia executions recently has gone down but there were those two unidentified victims in Negishi that day, and the port Mafia have been oddly quiet since.”

Atsushi’s blank expression makes it obvious that he still doesn’t understand, but Kunikida is beginning to. “The magizoologist must have followed the animals the Port Mafia was smuggling, and gotten caught up,” he clarifies. “But what makes you certain he’s still alive?”  
Ranpo huffs. “The Brits are still looking for him. Surely we can trust them on whether their own citizen is alive or dead.”

* * *

Chuuya has been tasked with getting the stranger to talk. The task is frustrating and futile. Not because the other man doesn’t talk, but because he spouts such volumes of nonsense that Chuuya is hard pressed to remain in the room to continue the interrogation. 

After two attempts at locking up the stranger had resulted in him escaping his magic repelling handcuffs and wandering around the corridors until Chuuya was alerted to recapture him, Chuuya had just flipped the cell’s gravity to have a very strong pull towards the center. The literal center. The red-haired stranger now floated in the middle of the room, entirely unable to move except for waving his limbs about haphazardly. Unfortunately, this meant that none of Chuuya’s minions could even approach the stranger, for fear of getting caught up themselves. 

To put it succinctly, this particular task sucked, but as a loyal Port Mafia Executive, he persevered. 

“Look, fool. You don’t just track three of my shipments and expect us to let you go. Tell me how you found the parcels.”

“I didn’t know it was a mafia, I just knew that someone was smuggling crates of Amazonian Salamanders, and that’s ridiculous, the green pigment in their skin neutralizes their potency as potions ingredients, so they can’t be used as a substitute for regular salamanders. When I caught wind of some dugbog poachers in a similar area I decided to look for them, that’s all.”

“I believe you, I do,” Chuuya says. “No one who knows they’re dealing with the port mafia would be stupid enough to come alone (the stranger looks miffed at this) but that doesn’t explain how you found the locations that you did.” Chuuya leans closer, “You see, what I am particularly worried about is that you had an inside man, someone to tell you exactly when and where you should come, and I will admit that the thought that someone would betray the Port Mafia, that makes me incredibly-” he pulls out his wand, “-angry. Crucio!”

Chuuya will admit one thing, the British stranger is tough; it takes him nearly forty seconds to scream, and he stops whimpering a few moments after Chuuya releases the spell. The man is curled into himself, being suspended allowing him to curl his rather lanky frame into a small, hunched little shape. “You don’t want me to do that again, do you? Tell me what you know. The man is stubbornly silent and Chuuya curses to himself in French. He’s never particularly liked the Cruciatus curse anyway. There’s something much more viscerally frightening, particularly to wizards, to seeing blood…

But no, Mori had insisted that no permanent harm (as if it would be permanent, when the Mafia head was a Healer) and Chuuya’s options are limited. Something stirs the stranger’s pocket, and Chuuya summons it to his hand with Tainted Sorrow instead of a spell. It squeaks and chirps at him, from its tiny twig-like face. The man uncurls and looks at Chuuya with wide eyes. He’s even paler than he was before, and Chuuya smirks.

A bowtruckle. “No wonder you got out of my cuffs. Are you still going to pretend that you didn’t do this deliberately? I’m sure my boys could use a lockpick like this one. But then again…bowtruckles are so hard to motivate properly, aren’t they? I could just accidentally break him…” the squeaks grow more alarmed and high pitched, and the man cries, “Please don’t, I can tell you who I am, I’ll talk, just don’t-” They are interrupted by the door slamming open. Chuuya turns to scowl through the doorway, still outlined in glowing red like everything else in the room, but it’s Akutagawa. “Yes?”

“His name is Newt Scamander. Expelled from Hogwarts for setting a beast on other students, ten years ago.”

“Any family connections?”

“Dumbledore seems fond of him” begins Akutagawa but Chuuya shakes his head. The Mafia preferred quiet power and provoking a Dark wizard slayer wasn’t particularly intelligent. “His brother is Theseus Scamander,” He adds, “War hero,” but then seems to decide that Chuuya’s not impressed, so continues, “There seems to have been some involvement with the Lestranges.” That was only slightly more promising. While the Lestranges had their fingers in a lot of pies, they tended to stick with Europe and northern Africa for their business pursuits. “Report to Mori,” he dismisses, and turns back to the horrified floating captive.

“I believe I don’t need your identity any longer, Mr. Scamander. Your Hufflepuff scarf was quite sufficient. So what are you willing to tell me in exchange for your bowtruckle’s life?”

Chuuya thinks he can see the first cracks of defeat in the wizard’s eyes. Maybe he can even go home tonight.

* * *

He doesn’t get to leave. He has barely left the premises when he gets a call, informing him that the ADA dogs were sniffing around Scamander’s hotel room. Pleased that he had had the forethought to plant a watcher there and irritated beyond reason that he wouldn’t be able to relax for an evening, he steps away from his car to start back up the stairs.  
A familiar bandaged hand wraps itself around his throat.

Chuuya’s eyes instantly widen as he jerks his elbow back and up, twisting and pulling out a blade from his sleeve. Dazai was immune to both magic and special abilities, but not physical damage. And Chuuya has always been better at martial arts. He slashes at the wrist holding him, but Dazai has shifted, and then there’s the cold, also familiar, feel of a gun at his head. “We are practically on the doorstep of headquarters!” Chuuya hisses. “Aw Chuuya don’t worry, no one can see a thing!” The bastard’s voice is cheerful, and Chuuya only then notices the light dust of snowfall, and the crisp chill in the air. He hears his car start behind him, even though his keys are still in his pocket. “Are all of you freaks here?” asks Chuuya, baring his teeth.

“Perhaps we’d best hold this conversation elsewhere!” says a polite voice, and Dazai cheerfully grabs Chuuya’s bare forearm and drags him toward his own idling car. “After you, Chuu-ya!” he says, sing-song, and Chuuya only grits his teeth and bears it because of the gun to his head.

The doctor is at the wheel, and Chuuya is pushed to the middle of the backseat. She turns around and aims her own gun at his head, and then the first vanishes so the holder, Kunikida Doppo, Chuuya presumes, can walk around the car to slip in beside him. “Thank you, Yosano,” says the other man. A moment later, Tanizaki settles into the passenger seat, twisting around to look at Chuuya curiously. A quick switch of guns pointing at his head, as Yosano passes the gun to Tanizaki, and Chuuya can do nothing but scowl as the doctor drives away. The bastard’s firm grip on his arm means he can’t do anything else.

A sudden prick to his neck has him flinching away from Kunikida, but it’s not soon enough. He feels the syringe depress and a moment later he has collapsed onto Dazai like a puppet, completely unable to move his own muscles. He can’t even growl, just lays limp, heart pounding slowly in time while his mind races in panic. A pale hand slips inside his coat, rummages, and then pulls out his chestnut wand.

Chuuya can only breathe. Breathe. Breathe. The tempo is beyond him, regulated just as his heartbeat is. His eyes definitely do not tear up at the loss of his wand, and even if they did, it was only because he couldn’t blink. Dazai huffs, a quiet amused sound, and then slips Chuuya’s eyes closed.

And Chuuya had thought he couldn’t hate Dazai anymore than he already did. 

The bastard so loved to prove him wrong.

* * *

Chuuya wakes to find himself carefully bound, in a room with intricate runes running not only in a circle around himself but along the walls and ceiling. From his quick glance, he cannot see a single way to slip out, even if he reverses gravity. He still has enough faith in Dazai to know that the bastard would have been through and several steps ahead. He has regained control of his muscles although his limbs feel heavy. He lifts his chin up and only then notices Kyouka peering at him from outside the runic confinement.

“I have informed Kunikida,” she informs him quietly. “You must only wait momentarily for him to arrive.”

The blond man does turn up almost at once, and Chuuya watches him warily. 

“Nakahara-san, the Armed Detective Agency apologizes for kidnapping you. There were urgent matters to be discussed, and no way to reach you without alerting the other Mafia members.”

“They’ll ‘ve fund ou tht I’mmissin,” he says, and is horrified to hear his voice slurring over the words. The paralytic must still be in his system.   
“They have not, we have taken pains to ensure that your absence remains secret.” 

Well, that explained why Dazai had actually brought back-up instead of walking up practically demanding to be captured by the Port Mafia like he had last time.  
“What do you want?” he tries to ask (Chuuya ignores the fact that it sounds more like Whud-yu-won?) Kunikida clearly understands, because he continues in his measured voice, “The newest prisoner that the Port Mafia has taken, Mr. Newton Scamander…we have been commissioned to find him and return him to Britain.” 

Chuuya hasn’t the strength to laugh, but he does make a wheezing noise. It’s the thought that counts, probably. “By the International Confederation of Wizards,” says Kunikida pointedly.

That’s…different. The ICW does not usually meddle in affairs legal or otherwise, unless there was some severe breach of the Statute of Secrecy. Nearly everything else, as long as it fell within a single country, remains under local jurisdiction. 

“We don ‘ave im,” he says. Chuuya would definitely be more convincing if he didn’t sound drunk, he’s certain. His heart is beating double time as though to compensate for his muscles’ sluggish response.

“You do. We have traced Mr. Scamander’s location to three different locations frequented by the less legitimate businesses in Yokohama. It is exceedingly unlikely that the Port Mafia was unaware of this, or let it go unchallenged.”

That was correct, of course. “No,” says Chuuya petulantly anyway. He doesn’t elaborate, but he does decide that he won’t speak further. Not only is it embarrassing, but Chuuya’s not going to become a traitor.

“We can force you to do this the easy way, or the hard way, Nakahara-san. The Port Mafia is a licensed Japanese institution, and if we like we can prove that you have captured and tortured a foreign wizard. The consequences may range from having your license revoked to starting an international incident between the Japanese and British governments. Either way, undue attention will be showered upon Yokohama.”

“Aand…th’ hard way?” Chuuya manages. Kunikida just stares at him piercingly for a long moment. 

“The hard way, is that I would be to leave Dazai in charge, as he requested. He can deal with the matter as he sees fit.”

Chuuya can see that it’s not an idle threat; after all, the most unfortunate thing for any of Dazai’s enemies, was that they were Dazai’s enemies. The Magical Diet, the SAD officials…even the ICW could, perhaps, be worked around. It would be a pain, but Chuuya can think of at least three different ways to sort this. Dazai’s involvement would be impossible to counter, though.

His head is spinning. “Ugh,” he manages. It takes him a moment to realize that there have been only two options. Neither one would explain why he was the one being held captive here. He inhales, trying somewhat desperately to clear his head again and meets the steely blue eyes. “What do you want.” This time the words are recognizable, and he’s a bit proud of that, and then the dizziness strikes again.

“Um, Kunikida-san.” Was that the weretiger? Chuuya tries to tilt his head to see. “Why is Chuuya-san turning blue?”

He must have missed Atsushi because of the dark spots dancing in and out f his vision, Chuuya thinks mildly. He doesn’t really want to be blue, that would look quite awful with his hair. He has the vaguely worrying feeling that something is wrong. Those are people yelling over the strange ringing in his ears, he thinks. Then everything fades to black.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Please do leave any criticism or comments that you have, all comments are quite welcome. Thank you!


End file.
